


Misperception

by ghostystripes



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Love, First Time, Reader-Insert, Secret Relationship, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Smut, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostystripes/pseuds/ghostystripes
Summary: Harnessing gravity was Dr. de Kuiper’s second most alarming discovery.His first, was realizing he had fallen for you—his most unruly student.





	1. Chapter 1

You didn’t care that you were privileged to be under the voice of one of the greatest physicists in the world. 

You talked infernally in his lectures, you chewed that horrid, messy pink gum, you were always cussing, you put your high-top black converse on desks and chairs, and your marks in his course were just plain awful. 

You snatched every paper from him, you flicked him off when he excused you from the lecture for constant interruptions, you nearly killed him on the way to his car with that dreadful, skull-painted hoverboard of yours, and once you made fun of him by calling him “Gru”—a character from that tasteless old children’s movie “Despicable Me”. 

And yet—God help him.

And yet—God save him.

And yet, Siebren found himself at the wrong end of a crush. Although now, when he reconsidered it—he wasn’t sure if crush was even the right word to describe the swooping drop of his stomach anymore. 

It came out of the clear blue. Literally. A water gun fight had broken out right on the stairs and sidewalk in front of the student union. 

There he was, boring, strange, lonely old Dr. Siebren de Kuiper with his boring shirt and tie and his crisp white documents about strange, cosmic space things.  
There he was, packed up with his car keys and awaiting a peaceful evening in his study— hot tea, some light reading and Vivaldi. 

There you were, wild, intoxicating, adventurous young (Y/N), all soaking wet, all skip and bounce, all allure and temptation in that scandalous swimwear, dulled only a little just underneath your plain white t-shirt. 

You laughed and shrieked; you jumped and tumbled along with the other conglomerate of boisterous young people squealing around you. 

Siebren stood entranced upon the wet, crowded, walkway when your eyes seemed to find his thin, grey frame. 

You were moving toward him, neon green and orange assault rifle poised and ready.

You, his greatest tormentor—his mocker. You, his problem student. 

But your lips weren’t twisted in that familiar scowl. Your eyes weren’t lidded and spiteful. 

He stared and stared, bolted to where he stood. 

You mouth was lit up with impossible laughter. Your eyes were bright, alive—happy and welcoming. 

You...that rowdy tomboy from his lecture. You were...glowing. 

You were...lovely. 

A deepening sense of panic was tumbling down onto Siebren then as his eyes caught again, the poised aim of your water gun. 

What should he do if you squirt him, beckoning his stern “professorness” to join the fun? Would he just, rapidly shake his head, muttering some apologies and lightly bat you away? 

Should he join? And gain new, positive recognition as one of the faculty to let loose?

He had to decide, you were almost right upon him. 

Siebren’s eyes were widening, shoulders stiffening as he braced himself for what may come. 

Would you tackle him? Would he timidly smile up at you as your lush body and feminine hips pinned him down to the concrete? 

Would you—

You whisked past him.

“Get fucked, Daffy Duck!” You hollered.

Startled by his misperception, Siebren whipped around to see the chubby, but also soaking-wet girl who had been conveniently behind him.

She shrieked as you went to assault her with your rapid fire bullets of water. 

You probably hadn’t even seen him.

Siebren caught his breath, straightened his tie, and kept walking—ice in his heart, fire in his loins. 

~~

Siebren put the keys into the car’s ignition and stared through the windshield and up into the sherbet-orange summer sky. 

He marveled at its beauty, and the hot tears streaming down his thin cheeks.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he found out that you worked part time as a barista, Siebren thought that perhaps three coffee breaks a day would suit him better than just one.

You didn’t even look up from the register, head lolling lazily to the side as you repeated yourself. Again.

“I can HELP whoever’s NEXT.”

Siebren had been too occupied trying to figure out what to articulate from the dizzying motley of menu items. It turned out the cafe _did_ serve plain black coffee—it was just hidden; at the end of the menu; at the bottom right corner.

Siebren hurried over then, eyes cast downward as he reached into his pockets for his wallet. He chuffed a tart laugh as he approached, eyes only regarding the Italian leather in his long hands.

“Sorry about that—not used to the menu quite yet, is all.”

Siebren retrieved a crisp bill.

“Just a small black coffee.”

With a flourish, you snatched up the white paper the register spits out.

“Here’s your receipt,” you said drily.

“Have a good one.”

As Siebren took it, he had finally looked up. Immediately, his breath hitched to a stop.

You. Oh God, it was you. You worked there. This cafe. This place was where you worked.

He was at your register. How did he not notice until now? Oh God, oh Christ.

Your presence burned hot with youth, (e/c) eyes just underneath your thick, stylish bangs, holding him that familiar and smoldering spite.

You both regarded each other a moment longer; for Siebren, an eternal moment—a lovely moment. For you, another thing to shrug off with a roll of your eyes.

Siebren’s eyes fluttered apprehensively when turned your head, the ring your plump bottom lip glimmering as you spoke.

“I can help whoever's next.”

As he walked away with his coffee, he heard you murmur under your breath.

“Thirsty hipster motherfuckers.”

What a nasty little tiger you were.

~~

Siebren sat in his office, coffee untouched.

The e-mail he typed fanned out in a flurry out across the hovering screen in front of him.

 _Dear Y/N,_  
_It was lovely to see you at Brooke’s cafe._  
_Missed you in class today._  
_How are you doing on those problem sets?_  
_Please hesitate to ask me a question!_  
_All the best,_  
_**Dr. Siebren De Kuiper, Ph.D.  
College of Applied** **Sciences**_

Siebren stared and stared at the screen before rubbing his temples, sighing, and tapping “delete”. But, a soft yelp emitted from Siebren’s lips then.

He realized that he had accidentally tapped “send” instead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you gained your first tenure as a minister at Oasis University, you could only think of Siebren; …Siebren.

_**Present Day** _

You…were not you. It was strange how you were simultaneously knowledgeable and ignorant of that fact.

Always still, and always warm within that strange, confining heat. It cast a scarlet glow over the white, ice-cold walls.

With every one of your curious thoughts, your essence pulsated to and fro. Sometimes your thoughts were too vivid, and the men in the hazmat suits would begin to wail. You didn’t mean to emit torrents of electromagnetic radiation—ripping their fragile humanness to shreds.

Every time that happened…they moved you.

They moved you to a darker corner.

**_“SUBJECT GAMMA”  
RANK X CONTAINMENT—DO NOT INTERACT_ **

~~

Moira reads from the monitor.

“Dr. Y/FN Y/LN—previous Minister of Chemistry at Oasis University.”

She glances up for a moment to acknowledge the ponderous faces of Talon looking back at her.

“Considering she’s still in her twenties, that is no achievement to sneeze at.”

She keeps reading the document pulled from agency blacklists.

“Detained after a meltdown incident in a testing facility on the outskirts of Lijang, China. Y/N’s ability to illicit radioactive energy makes her a threat to public health and safety. Y/N’s nuclear instability makes her a threat to international health and safety.”

Moira takes off her thin glasses and runs fingers down the sides of her nose.

“If we’re to exhume her from the facility, extreme caution will be the meaning of life and death. If we’re not careful, we can become exposed to her radiation and—,”

Moira swiped at the screen which then flicked to a blurred image of your condition—a silhouette of a woman cradled within a scarlet ball of energy.

“That will obviously mean death for us.”

In the back of the briefing room, an older gentleman, tall and pale, glanced up in attention at the utterance of his name.

“De Kuiper? Your harness of gravity could act as a certain…container. If light cannot escape the clutches of a black hole, her radiation cannot as well.”

Siebren’s watery periwinkle eyes regarded the image. It was beautifully striking—you, that woman in that scarlet capsule of radiation. But something else about you struck him.

Why did a name he’s supposedly never heard before make his heart ache so terribly? His foggy mind works it back and forth but…nothing comes. And yet—

Siebren’s eyes find O’Deorain’s thin figure. He nods.

“Very well.”

And yet—tears are starting to stream down his cheeks.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah. So there was a time when you didn’t listen to heavy metal and gangster rap. So there was a time you didn’t have any piercings or tattoos.
> 
> So there was a time when you were a science nerd. What of it?

**_That time when you were 9_ **

You were standing atop your starry bedsheets, flying your favorite model rocket around in the air—back and forth.

“What’s that Dr. de Kuiper? We’re approaching a black hole you say?”

You continued to make whooshing sounds with your lips, that time hopping off your bed and running around your small room—both arms flung out.

Perhaps if you pretended hard enough—pretended to be an Overwatch agent on a special mission with your idol, Siebren de Kuiper, perhaps you could drown out the snarls of your father calling your mother a “stupid bitch”.

He was downstairs, shit-faced somewhat awful that evening. You could hear your mother screaming back at him, and the following rumble of his apathetic retorts.

It continued for what felt like half the night—which was fine. You could pretend for the rest of eternity.

“Look! A giant squid monster is on the moon! Dr. de Kuiper? I’ma need you to toss him up into the air with the power of gravity!”

You ran back over to your bed and crouched, reaching underneath for your discarded water gun.

“You do that, and I’ll blast him to smithereens! Pew-pew-pew!”

Suddenly, from downstairs, there came what sounded like all of the cups in the cabinet tumbling to the floor and shattering before one last resounding thud of the front door.

Your spinning and leaping came to a halt when a hovercycle’s motors revved up to a startling roar, no doubt waking the rest of the slumbering neighborhood.

With a huff of the engine, you could hear your father speeding off into the night—the growl of his hovercycle falling farther and farther away.

Standing there a moment longer, you shook off the distraction and kept playing—jumping and laughing.

“Come in, Commander Morrison!” You pretended to shout into a comm.

“We’re going to need aerial back up! The squid monster’s eggs are hatching! REEEEE!”

Then it came like a bolt of lightning, your mother’s fist and voice at the door—completely evaporating everything in an instant.

“Y/N shut the fuck up and go the fuck to sleep!”

* * *

**_That time when you were 12_ **

Oh God, your turn was coming up. After the high-schooler in front of you got his book signed, it’d be your turn.

It’d be your turn to have your book signed by Dr. Siebren de Kuiper.

Your legs began to shake when the older boy blubbered out a few more thank-yous and stepped away with his keepsake—a copy of The Song of Space and Time by Dr. Siebren de Kuiper.

Oh God, he was looking at you then. Your hero—the smartest man like, to ever live. The person who’s tech workshop live streams you watched from beginning to end, even if it was nine hours long and on a school night.

His eyes—they were so keen; so kind.

“Well, what do we have here! I honestly think you’re the youngest person in line, young lady.”

You just stared at him, wide-eyed behind your big, red-rimmed glasses that you had yet to grow into. With trembling arms, you hand the book over for Dr. de Kuiper to sign.

His smile didn’t waver.

“You got a name?”

* * *

_**University** _

“....Y/N?”

You kept mumbling the words to the Brazilian rap thrumming into your eardrums and ignoring the stack of textbooks piled up at your desk.

Homework. Fuck that.

Your feet hurt from standing at a register for five hours straight that evening, and the previous five before that. Seriously—fuck homework.

But, you jumped abruptly when a finger poked your thigh.

“Agh!”

You flew up from your bed. Music still blaring, you found yourself staring at the sheepishness on the freckled face of your roommate, Molly.

You popped one earbud out, mouth working with a twinge of annoyance.

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“U-um, a few of us are headed to the library. Dr. de Kuiper is having a study session for the exam on Friday, remember?”

You shooed her away with a flick of your fingers.

“Yeah no thanks, I’m good. Work’s a bitch and I don’t plan on moving from this mattress until...,”

You paused to look over your alarm clock which read: 10:09 p.m.

“...10 a.m. tomorrow.”

A thin smile worked at your lips. Without another word, you plopped back onto your pillow and turned away from her.

“Oh! ...Okay. Get that rest, Y/N!” cheered Molly, somewhat awkwardly.

You didn’t respond, which she accurately took as a cue to leave.

As your eyes were beginning to close— as the room was beginning to swaddle you within a blanket of silence, your phone emitted a single chirp.

Damn Molly. She was probably texting to see if you changed your mind about coming. Which you didn’t.

With a soft “what the fuck,” your slitted eyes took ahold of the single notification on the lock screen.

An e-mail? You read the heading and coughed out a sputtering gag.

**_From: Dr. Siebren de Kuiper_ **


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were a keen flame—and he really wanted to get burned; his flesh, his bones, his soul—falling to ashes.

_**University** _

When he came back that evening, Siebren had to park way out by the athletic fields again. He found it funny, as his aching lower back protested, that the university president could green-light another swimming pool and fast food joint, but not another parking lot...or an updated physics building.

It was a pain, he thought—walking briskly to the shuttle stop with his thin briefcase of graded quizzes and practice exams. According to the digital map of the campus right in front of him, he had just missed the one headed toward the library.

Its indicating blue dot blinked further and further away from the orange “You are here” dot, and Siebren swore softly. But he flinched when a louder, more potent enunciation of the word echoed through the evening’s sun-glazed silence.

“FUCK! You’re out of your damned mind, coach—I didn’t foul!”

Siebren glanced away from the map, and observed, from across the street, you in your tight black shorts, jersey, and cleats. You were slamming a soccer ball down onto the turf so hard that it bounced back up and flew over the fence.

An assortment of girls in matching, black and gold team colors, stared after you, similarly awe-stricken by your short-fuse temper.

“I did NOT need to leave work for this shit.”

Siebren watched helplessly from the bus stop, his hand on the briefcase case’s handle sweating—trembling.

He watched as you strut over to a metal bench and snatched up your black duffel bag, noting how it was humorously illustrated with a big, white middle-finger. He watched as you tossed it over your shoulder and marched across the field and onto the sidewalk.

He watched as you didn’t notice him across the street; he watched the way you could miraculously tie an apron back around your waist whilst holding the phone up to your ear with no hands.

“Yeah, Janie—I can cover your shift tonight.”

You paused suddenly and turned your head back to the soccer field.

“—because my COACH is a fucking BITCH.”

He watched as you disappeared down the hill, and he watched as he proved the theory that one could fall in love twice.

* * *

The study session that evening would go perfectly fine, Siebren knew.

More turned up that he expected. A conglomerate of students in a mix of hoodies and sweatpants—perhaps a coffee-shop apron here and there; even in the back, if he squinted hard-enough, a young man in a polka-dotted onesie.

Amongst the anomalies, however, his eyes would scan over their slackened faces. Every now and then there would be a nose-ring, a tuft of tapered hair that would abruptly send his heart racing.

But no...no. The apathetic posture and curled lip always belonged to some other girl, her features noticeably less radiant in their brood. No...no, that was not you.

You were not coming, and he should calm down, take another sip of his coffee, straighten his collar, and begin the exam review for his small audience.

Siebren had them all gathered in a more public area of the library. The little garden of chairs, footstools and end tables near the entrance, near the check-out desks. All of it nearer still to the detached, evening tour group of middle-aged parents and their vapid teens sipping at complimentary water bottles.

As Siebren was tossing up a series of holograms with a flick of his fingers, a few more stragglers were creeping over with stringy, freshly showered hair—with their chips and sodas.

Every few moments or so, the doors at the entrance would buckle open, and every time, to his agony, Siebren’s eyes flew up anxiously, expectantly.

Again, no, it wasn’t you walking in, but it was a face he did somewhat recognize. A freckled girl with two ponytails and a reputation for politeness and great marks—Molly he believed her name was.

She sent a shy little wave and took a seat in towards the back of the group.

Siebren waved back. A delightful girl, in a delightfully predictable way: consistent with questions, “please’s”, and “thank you, Dr.’s”.

But still, it wasn’t the same. There was a handful quite like Molly after all. They were nice girls, of course, but they didn’t give him that same, biting frustration.

They weren’t you, sauntering over, hands in the pockets of their black varsity jacket—bangs so falling so alluringly over their eyes.

Oh, Goddammit, how was it possible? How? That the thought of you merely walking sent him into a hushed frenzy of abominable excitement?

As he broke free of the thoughts making his head feel hot, Siebren finally stepped over to the small, smart-podium.

“Good evening, everyone. Now that we’ve gotten a chance to get situated, we’ll go ahead and get started.”

He pulled up a hologram of equations and unpinched his fingers to maximize it for all to see. Siebren cleared his throat and once again, became brilliant Dr. de Kuiper.

“Let’s begin with the important laws of Newton and Kepler. These men—,”

A strange air descended across that corner of the library when Siebren’s flow came to a jarring halt. Most stared back at him hesitantly, but a few glanced around in search of what his eyes were settling onto so intently.

At an empty table in the back, you had just taken your seat--eyes downcast, arms folded, one smooth leg crossed over the other.

Siebren’s heart then, against his will, began to sing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can’t remember you. Why, why, why can’t he remember you? Why does it hurt so much?

_**Present Day** _

“Kudos to our efforts, de Kuiper. We were able to recover Dr. (Y/LN) safely.

There you are. Finally.

You are absolutely beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful thing he has seen since...the accident, since the confinement; and since this current, strange chapter of his ripening years—bending gravity to his own will. And yet, none of it had widened his eyes more than your radiant beauty—the woman trapped within an electromagnetic field, now free, thanks to his brilliance.

And, well, thanks to the brilliance of another as well.

Siebren glances to his right, wide-eyed and uncertain, at Dr. Moira O’Deorain. From behind the one-way glass, she observes your bare, awakening form with a cool patience, hands clasped behind her back.

Siebren moves his back attention back to you. Being trapped in such a state of dormancy had certainly done a number on you, Siebren was slowly beginning to notice. Your thin arms could hardly hold up the rest of your meager weight—folded legs as weak and fragile as a fawn’s, the lined bones of your ribs slightly visible underneath the trembling goose flesh of your skin.

Though, even in such an emaciated state—one single, forgotten butterfly stirred, and fluttered again within his heart cavity as he watched you.

But why? Who were you and why did your soft features make him want to weep with horrible tenderness?

The front part of your faded (h/c) hair is long, and tapered—the back kept and neatly short; the entirety a sort of pixie cut. Familiar bangs fell somewhat across your eyes when you finally lift your head, and take ahold of your surroundings.

But Siebren falls out of his entrancement when your arms clasped round your bare torso, (e/c) eyes peering out from your bangs—trembling and fearful.

“Hello?”

Your voice rings out, dry and shrill.

Siebren looks back to Moira.

“We should help her.”

The older man moves to the door with a rushed steadfastness, but long fingers latch onto the sleeve of his lab coat.

“Absolutely not, de Kuiper. Radiation from her field could still linger everywhere. She must remain where she is for the time being.”

The poised air of a world-renown astrophysicist is beginning to leave Siebren now. His lilac-hued eyes were as gentle as the flower, and as sad as a child’s.

“But she’s hurting.”

Siebren pulls away a little then and his bare feet begin to pace the cool tile of the testing facility.

“And there’s this nagging feeling within me. I feel like I know Dr. Y/LN. I just don’t remember where.”

Moira’s eyes regard Siebren then—their coolness dropping into something cold, it’s warped away with a taut smile.

“Don’t be ridiculous, de Kuiper.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so, Siebren chased the flame.

Molly wouldn’t shut up. In fact, anytime anyone got her talking about physics, she wouldn’t shut up. And being in front of a world-class physicist definitely wasn’t going to shut her up anytime soon.

You rolled your eyes.

She was at the front of the pack of melatonin-deprived bodies, going on and on, hands a blur of excited gestures. Dr. de Kuiper regarded her warmly, eyes fixed with a post-lecture mellow.

As time, and Molly’s words wound on, you checked your lock screen. The white numbers sitting across ancient John Lennon’s forehead read 11:55 pm.

With a curt sigh, you stuck your hands into the pockets of your varsity jacket. The library closed at midnight, and there was still a clump of buzzing inquirers ahead of you.

It’d best to cut your losses, you decided, and ask Dr. de Kuiper about his e-mail the next day.

When you looked up from your phone, you saw that Molly was finally walking back to the garden of stools for her backpack.

When de Kuiper caught your eyes, a flash of pastel amongst the backpacks and hoodies, it was immediately that your breath caught.

And it was immediately that you turned, and strode briskly to the exit—cheeks a-flare.

* * *

No, no—you were leaving.

Damn it, he should have just smiled; something lighthearted and easy. He should have just waved you over; not stare back like a buck in scorching headlights.

The melody in his heart, as he watched you disappear through the gliding front doors, was beginning to grow softer.

“Good evening, Dr. de Kuiper,” began the next person in line after Molly—a tall, potato-shaped young man with green glasses, and a shrek t-shirt.

With a fat finger, he pushed the glasses back up right as they were sliding off the bridge of his nose.

“I feel like there was a slight discrepancy in one of your equations. 5b, was it?”

Siebren abruptly shut his empty brief case and started away from the ponderous stragglers; he muttered a hasty goodnight and urged those with questions can just simply e-mail him.

The night air was hot as Siebren took a few steps down the sparse sidewalk, looking about in every direction.

You couldn’t have vanished that fast, could you? His heart was racing, and his head was pounding. It felt as if he could not inhale air fast enough to keep pace with his rapid exhaling.

What should he even say to you? To discuss right there, (wherever you were) how to best solve the problem sets? Goddamnit, it was such a stupid e-mail, and such a stupid mistake.

Perhaps he could just...apologize?

Siebren continued down the sidewalk, thoughts dashing a million miles a minute.

Would you just roll your eyes at him like you usually did? Would you just, hop into your hoverboard and glide away into the night, leaving him to wonder hopelessly about how he had come to fall for such a furious young-blood.

With his shoulders beginning to relax, and even sink, Siebren felt that he should give up on the notion.

As he kept walking, he noted the way the stars gleamed in the clear sky, thousands of years away. A perfect, sobering analogy, for the stars were you.

Adjacent to the brick walkway amongst some tall shrubs, Siebren made out a bench—an ideal spot, he thought, for a midnight reflection.

Just as he was upon it, however, something happened. Whatever it was, caused his legs to rapidly sidestep toward cover behind the dark greenery surrounding it.

There, he suddenly hid.

There, he suddenly hid from you sitting idly on the bench, smoking a cigarette, earbuds in—eyes, lifted skyward.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were so, so beautiful, but so, so lost.
> 
> Or…was it he that was lost?

_**Present Day** _

Siebren paces the long, cool hallways of Talon’s detainment level, long fingers twiddling themselves together.

He isn’t sure if he should see you again. Of course, it’s not that he doesn’t want to. In fact, he absolutely wants to—he has been absolutely aching to do so.

After sitting in with Dr. O’Deorain, watching recordings of your lectures at the prestigious University of Oasis, there was something about you that drew from him a warm, familiar fondness.

Perhaps it was watching the bounce of your bangs with each nod of your head, the youthful, energetic lilt to your voice as you answered a student’s question—the equally youthful, but spitfire firmness in the way you excused disruptive students from your lecture.

No, you weren’t even thirty and the brilliant Minister of Chemistry at Oasis. Siebren was immediately finding himself harboring a soft, but certain crush.

Again, yes—of course, Siebren wanted to see you. He wanted to have a deep, intellectual chat with you, brush the bangs out of your vibrant eyes and find out why they were so terrifyingly familiar.

But he right now, he can’t. He can’t bring himself to walk beyond the clearance gate.

Not after the incident.

It was a day and a half ago. Finally, you had been cleared for human contact and released into the general population of Talon’s speculation and detainment level.

Siebren was so excited to meet you—so excited to clasp your small hand within the warmth of his, assure you that everything was okay now, to tell you, blushing modestly, that you were as brilliant as you were beautiful.

Siebren and Moira awaited at the end of the hall, watching as two armed men brought you out of your room, a scene that, to Siebren, looked quite ridiculous.

Ridiculous in the sense that a small, emaciated woman in a plain red, long-sleeved jumpsuit needed to be guarded precariously between the bulk of two troopers.

Your eyes were wearily downcast as you were drawing closer to them, though Siebren’s attention remained solely on you—your damp, ruffled hair, the tiny diamond ring glimmering from your thin fingers.

“Well Hello, Dr. Y/LN…the fact that you’ve nearly recovered is nothing short of a miracle. …It’s lovely to see you at last.”

Siebren coughed and let his pastel gaze fall off a little to the side.

“—in the flesh, that is.”

You didn’t glance up at his words, though. In fact, you didn’t even stir.

Worried, Siebren looked back to Moira who stood watching the exchange; cooly, calmly.

She only nodded for him to continue.

At her prompting, Siebren took a ginger step toward you, allowing his broad hand to rest gently upon your shoulder.

To his relief, you looked up to meet his face, slackened features working into something. In an instant, your eyebrows raised in recognition, eyes brightly awakening.

“…Siebren?”

Your gaze held onto his so fiercely that Siebren hesitantly looked back to Moira for help.

Her cool expression sunk a little into mild concern.

“I didn’t know she knew you,”

It startled Siebren when your hands latched onto his upper arms, your grip upon him so tight that your nails actually punctured into the fabric of his lab coat.

“I THOUGHT YOU DIED! THEY TOLD ME YOU DIED!”

One of the troopers raised his arm and murmured something into his wrist. The other stepped forward to pull you away.

Your eyes didn’t leave him, wide and completely, utterly horror-stricken.

“SIEBREN, IT’S ME!” You shrieked. Already your small form was struggling against the trooper’s grasp upon you.

Siebren’s eyes only dimmed with tender, guilty sorrow.

“I’m…I’m so sorry…,” he apologized, voice hushed.

“I don’t recall us ever meeting, Dr. Y/LN.”

The tears in your eyes were so real, though. They fell in torrents, gathering at the point of your chin.

“HOW DO YOU NOT REMEMBER? I’VE KEPT THIS STUPID THING FOR SIX YEARS!”

Somehow, for a brief moment, you were able to break one of your arms free of the Troopers. In a fluid motion, you slid the sparkling ring off your finger and hurled it at him.

He watched it fall, a single glint in the hallway’s pale lighting, and roll toward his shoe.

Moira was at his arm then, tugging him lightly into the opposite direction.

“This isn’t a good time,” she said quietly.

Siebren stared and stared, watching as they, Oh God, forced you into cuffs and shoved you onto your knees, all while your teary gaze was still pinned to him.

“Siebren.”

Moira’s voice came again, firmer.

Dazed, he looked back to her, and nodded, half-comprehending what was actually happening.

She led him away, the doors to the detainment area gliding back closed, cutting off your shrill, high-pitched wails.

Even now, as Siebren glances through those very same doors, he finds that he cannot work up the courage to go through them.

He doesn’t want to ever see you like that again…even if that means not seeing you at all.

…Not seeing you ever again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Moira knows is that Siebren must not, and cannot know.

Moira has several browsers open. Her thin eyebrow furls when she finds that she must open another.

Again, she finds her mind rewinding the scene from earlier. It begins to play.

“HOW DO YOU NOT REMEMBER? I’VE KEPT THIS STUPID THING FOR SIX YEARS!” You had shrieked.

Moira had felt cool about yours and De Kuiper’s relationship all the way up until that moment. All the way up until you slid a glimmering band off your thin fingers.

Now, at her desk, Moira continues to examine the engagement ring pinched between her long violet nails. It certainly was a lovely piece of jewelry and a considerable investment, the band pure silver and the jewel itself a tack-sized, but brilliant sapphire.

As Moira’s eyes narrowed back up to her monitor, the images seemed to disclose nothing as a photo of De Kuiper smiled benevolently back at her.

She had located faculty tab on your undergrad university’s website.

All she could piece together was that De Kuiper had been one of your academic advisors and one of your professors.

But many could say the same. Yes, your name was listed beneath his, but so were other students. Nothing particular stood out that could explain your strong reaction to him.

Moira did take a closer look, however, clicking on each of the student’s names and viewing their profiles. Afterward, she found that she had been incorrect. One thing did stand out.

De Kuiper was the head of astrophysics, and he was really only to advise students in that prospective field. But she saw it when she clicked on your name—Y/N Y/LN.

Moira would’ve admitted she exhumed a soft huff of surprise at your radical appearance, much different from how you carried yourself as a practiced academic.

Yet, that was not the important thing that stood out.

It was the short description under your name. Department of Chemistry, instead of astrophysics. You should have been listed underneath your own department’s advisor, a middle-aged woman with a black bob of hair, Dr. Beth Donovan.

Moira wondered then, if that hiccup could correlate with what she observed earlier. Siebren had said, and Moira certainly believed him, that he didn’t recall ever meeting you.

But Siebren couldn’t recall many things.

With a sigh, Moira massages the tips of her fingers into her temples. She had to figure this out.

If you were, who she thought you were, the coincidental meeting between you and De Kuiper could undermine everything they were trying to accomplish with the peerless astrophysicist.

Once more, Moira returned to the search results and scrolled until she glimpsed something that could not be ignored. It was a video, and in the thumbnail, she could easily make out de Kuiper. The title: “Best Blastoff Ever!! ❤️❤️”

Moira clicked on it.

The video began shakily, filmed vertically on a phone camera; it pointed downward at the person’s pink sneakers, then rustled upward A round face came into view, a freckled girl with dark eyes and two curly ponytails. She shouted into the camera.

“Hey guys! Good morning, Molly here!”

The camera whirled to the people directly behind her.

“Here with my awesome roommate Y/N, and the world’s greatest, and my personally favorite professor, Dr. de Kuiper!”

There was a modest cheer from others standing nearby. You were next to de Kuiper smirking, but not unkindly.

Now Moira remembered, glancing back at the title, then back again to the video where de Kuiper stood outfitted in spacesuit, the crisp emblem of “Archangel” on his shoulder.

This was literally the day he went up. Moira watched intently.

“Yeah,” you began.

“This knucklehead is going to space.”

There was something in the way you smiled up at him, and something equally jarring in the way he stared back.

The video was back on Molly’s face then as she grinned into the camera.

“Dr. De Kuiper wanted us all here because, well, I don’t really know but—,”

The camera fell off her face when there came a sudden, hysterical cheer from the others around her.

When she set the camera onto the scene, de Kuiper was on his knees in front of you and you had your hands up to your face as you sobbed hysterically.

Molly began to screech and jumped up and down so erratically that she dropped the phone. The video promptly ended.

It was just as she had feared, Moira knew. The two of you were engaged.

And perhaps…the two of you would still be happily married today if the spacecraft hadn’t imploded that same day—if they wouldn’t have declared de Kuiper dead and locked him away, your heart with him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, you were putting up a front—and now it’s crashing down

**University**

“Hey, Granny—no, I didn’t eat a salad today.”

Siebren had to think fast. A call had come in and you were momentarily distracted.

Oh God, his heart was in his throat.

He couldn’t step back onto that walkway, no way. You’d see him. For sure. Then you’d send that leering scowl his way—and possibly yell at him about that stupid, STUPID, e-mail.

The only way he’d escape without you noticing was to cut across the bed of tulips (sadly planted that morning) by the campus landscaper. From there, he’d be behind the library and could just take the long way back to his car.

“What? No, I just got out of a study session.”

Siebren was about to make his dash but paused. Study session? Yes, _his_.

Would you say anything about the lecture?

….About him?

“It’s not like that anymore, Granny. It’d be different if he wasn’t actually my fucking professor,” you droned on.

His heart stopped.

What would be different?

“BECAUSE, GRANNY—,” your voice was piping higher.

“I CAN’T BE LIKE—‘Oh, how do you want the research paper formatted’, BY THE WAY I FUCKING LOVE YOU’”.

Siebren dropped his keys.

~~

Your grandmother had been what your mother hadn’t—a shoulder to cry on and an non-judgmental ear.

You’d been gushing to her about your science crush Siebren de Kuiper half your life.

And now that you attended the university where he was teaching, she’d been relentlessly prodding you forward. To make a move, to say something, to thank him and maybe squeeze into his office for a brief heart-to-heart and possibly a hug.

But you had to keep explaining to her, over and over again, that he was your professor, not a charming, single intellectual who lives in town.

Frustration has tinged your tone as you continued to haggle back and forth with her.

“I CAN’T BE LIKE—‘Oh, how do you want the research paper formatted’—BY THE WAY I FUCKING LOVE YOU’”.

Then you heard something—a faint jingle from behind the bushes.

It sobered you enough for you to realize that people, though it was late, were still around.

It probably wasn’t a good idea to be shouting your sensitivities into the heavens.

“Hold on Granny, I’ll call you back once I’m back in my room.”

You hung up and promptly looked to pick up your hoverboard.

“Where the fuck did I put it?” You murmured to yourself, seeing that it wasn’t under the bench.

~~

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

He had to get out of there.

Now.

It didn’t matter that his heart as singing—now, it was shrieking.

Siebren took a step backward, but the heel of his shoe bumped against something and he fell into the grass.

Just as he was pulling your hoverboard out from underneath him, he meets your widened, terrified eyes.


End file.
